One Sees Mud
by Selvine das'Annwyn
Summary: Post-AU-Avengers Promptfic, where the Chitauri won. Loki in his throneroom at Stark Tower, Jane as a prisoner. Angst, mistakes, redemption. Prompt was "Handmade". Please R&R. 3


**Disclaimer: I do not own Marvel or any of its characters**

**Other: Fic is set in an AU/Post-Avengers, where the Chitauri win**

A/N: Welcome to fic number 2 for this account thusfar (total). This piece is actually a promptfic I did using the prompt generator/grab-bag over at "Fifteen Minutes of Fiction". The prompt for this piece was "handmade". I only encorporate it a little, really, but this is what I thought of when that popped up. I guess I like the bittersweet. But that will be obvious soon enough.

Again, this piece has not been beta'd either, so critique and beta are thoroughly welcomed and encouraged, though all forms of reviews are welcomed as well.  
Please let me know what you think, as reader feedback is key to me in assisting my desire to write.

I hope you enjoy this piece. I know it isn't the best.

Thanks Again,  
-Sel

* * *

New York was in ruins and had been for some time. The entire world had been flattened the instant the portal had been opened and the Chitauri had flown their Hellish beasts through the sky. The murderous and innocent alike had been slaughtered in droves, and as the battle had carried forth, the foolish creatures called "Avengers" had been defeated. A museum of sorts, scientific and bold, had been constructed to commemorate the moments when each individual fell and the Chitauri victory had been assured. Now, the beasts roamed the known and unknown Universe alike, scouring new planets to destroy and conquer. Only rubble and broken souls were left in their wake, a force of incomparable violence and fortitude with the limitless power of the Tesseract in their control. Now, in post-battle "glory", the new King of Midgard found no peace, no profit, and no pleasure. His body was but an empty husk, waiting for the previous vigor to return. However, where Loki had once struggled against the potential suffocation of the Chitauri hangman's noose, he now lay limp and resigned to the death of all he loved. It only seemed fair that his true talents and intelligence die first.

Remorse flowed through the King's every fiber, infecting his body through all known pores and leaving the adopted Ӕsir with nothing but pain. The pain of knowing his wrongdoings, and knowing what harm he'd brought to those around him; this was the feeling that brought the would-be noble to his knees on the barren, dust-filled streets around him. Once brilliant emerald eyes glazed over with the nothingness the Jötunn felt seeping through his form, that numb death of emotions that brings about the only form of peace in an otherwise deadly depression.

Black locks fell, soft and grey with the dirt and dust of his conquests. Pale skin was marred with the bright red lashes of the Chitauri; reminders that he served _them_ in return for his life, and above them he served their lord and master. _Thanos_, the _true_ Immortal.

A shudder wracked the King's spine at the thought of that merciless creature. Frailty seemed to be the King's only companion in the desolation of his empire. His body was sore and bruised, pale beyond even the icy complexion he'd harbored since Odin had brought him home to lie in a crib beside his wretched "brother". Long, bony fingers cracked with every movement, too stiff from the Nordic legend's enslavement as a false ruler.

Beaten, the lithe magician slid around his "throne room", a vague look of distant longing in his once stone-cold eyes. His every step was labored and heavy with the gravity of his mistakes, and as he reached the golden chair before him, his strength seemed to falter even more. Knees buckled, and the foolish pawn of Thanos fell in a heap on the stairs leading to his perch. Silence wrapped around him in a blanket of solitude and despair. Why did he even try? Ebony strands slid around his eyes, masking them from the light offered from Stark's massive windows, now his own. The darkness suited him well, and he was prepared to languish long in its comfort, had a rustle of fabric and a brief movement of brown just outside his field of vision reminded him of his company.

Slowly, the rebellious Lord of Mischief raised his head and spared an inquisitive glance toward his captive. She rarely moved unless it was to make herself more comfortable, but something was different this time. The dirty brown of the woman's hair fell in wild sheets of curls and her deep amber eyes shone with defiance and hurt, but also with empathy. Her clothes were torn, her hopes ruined, but the woman remained steadfast in her beliefs that no one could be inherently evil, and though she'd long ago stopped her pleading with the King to change his ways, Loki knew she read him easier than the stars she had devoted her life to.

A sleek black eyebrow raised and a tired, swampy green eye sparked with some of the life it had lost. The desire to find what was running through the woman's mind wracked the young Lord's body, pressing him forward. In a moment, Loki found he'd stared the woman straight in her eyes and was speaking without having given permission to his lips to move.

"What, pray tell, is on your mind?" Where venom would have dripped, exhaustion now ruled supreme. Desperation, hopelessness, and a need for the affection he had so long ago deprived himself of consumed the man's body, and he was too tired from fighting to even try to pose a threat.

Blinking, the woman straightened herself, her thin chains clinking as her muscles stretched. A small, tanned hand moved to brush the hair away from her face, and a look of pure compassion shone from her delicate chocolate eyes. "You could rebuild it, you know." Silence passed for a moment before she clarified, "This world. The Chitauri have gone, you've lost your support here, and you cannot rule a world in which society has crumbled."

Startled, Loki straightened to stare her down. She knew his weaknesses, she knew he'd changed, her suggestions must simply be her way of taunting him. "I have no magic. I have no forces. What do you suggest I do?"

"Use your hands." Her reply was quick, delivered less than a heartbeat after Loki had finished. "I can help."

Again, surprise jolted down the King's spine "And why would you help me? I have killed your people, I have slain your would-be lover, I have enslaved the mind of the man you cherish as family. Why in all of Asgard, would you want to help _me_?"

Quiet reigned once more as she pondered, but only for a moment, "Because everyone deserves a chance to change. And because everyone needs someone, sometime."

Loki fumbled, confused by his prisoner's compassion. His hands shook as he surveyed the damage he'd done to the world around him and her words seeped into his soul. He may have caused the wreckage here and elsewhere, but he could help to undo the damage, too. If he was lucky, perhaps Thanos was saving the best for last and had left Asgard untouched. He _could_ change, if given the chance.

"Why, when you are a prisoner here, do you offer such sentiment?" A sideways glance studied the woman before him, "What have I done to deserve the aid of Thor's beloved?"

Jane smiled for the first time in longer than she cared to guess, "You too, are a prisoner of your own making." Lengthy eyelashes fluttered as the hazel depths of her eyes closed "A wise man once said 'Two men look out through the same bars; one sees mud, the other sees stars", and I, your Highness, have always looked toward the stars."

A sigh fell from the Ӕsir's lips and a small smirk found its way across his face, replacing the sullen look of the defeated King. Weighing the pros and cons were easy enough, but at this point self-preservation no longer fit into his plans. Redemption did.

"Very well, Miss Foster. Let us build this world. Let Midgard be remade." He paused and looked down at his thoroughly-callused palms "Let Midgard be handmade."

* * *

**A/N:** Again, I hope you enjoyed the piece. Please remember to review, even if it's just a couple words!

Thank you very Much,  
-Sel


End file.
